


Red Badge of Courage

by Tarasova Greene (dracoangelica)



Category: The Arcana Chronicles - Kresley Cole
Genre: Deleted Scene, Drama, F/M, period drama, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-23 02:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoangelica/pseuds/Tarasova%20Greene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set only a few days after the burning of Haven House and before the escape into Bagger Swamp, Evie and Jack have to source feminine products when Evie gets her period.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

PART ONE

I woke up feeling cramps in my thighs and nausea roiling in my belly. I swallowed, that sick sweet feeling of too much saliva collecting in my mouth. With a gulp, I held it back. After a moment the unease passed. I blinked then turned my head to look around. The shadows of the room were still thick, the sun not quite high enough to chase away the darkness. Dust motes danced in the air and were it not for the pain in my gut and thighs, I could almost look at the morning with appreciation.

The windows were boarded but thick slits were in the covers, as if once people had used them to point guns. Jack was sitting in the door frame, between this room and the hallway. His head leaned against the wood, his hands resting on his crossbow. I sat up then, resting an arm behind me as the other curled protectively around my cramping abdomen. He opened his grey eyes, peering at me in the gloaming of the early dawn. If he had been sleeping, it was too light to count as any type of rest.

“It’s a bit early for you, ain’t it?” he asked, his voice raspy.

I nodded, trying to straighten without giving away how sore I felt. “Do you know what time it is?” I wanted my toothbrush and maybe a bath.

The house we’d rolled tonight was a two story model. The main bedroom still had a large bed with a mattress but the curtains that had adorned it were long gone, threads the only sign of their existence. There was furniture in the form of a dresser and vanity, though the glass was cracked and dirty. Last night Jack had rubbed it clean with part of the rug and angled it down the hall so he could see anything coming around the stairs in the dark. All the other rooms had been stripped or used for some sort of shootout weeks ago, leaving nothing but broken glass and empty bullet jackets. Jack had told me that this had probably once housed a militia passing through and from the damage to the surrounding fence, I believed he was right.

I rolled my shoulders, and then stood, dropping my arms by my side so as not to bring attention to the ebbing and throbbing pain in my belly.

“Going to the bathroom,” I told him. He nodded, standing up so that I could get past him in the doorway. As I turned sideways he stopped me, a hand on my shoulder.

“You feeling okay?” he asked. When it was early like this, I could almost believe he didn’t mind all the work he had to do for us. “You looking a bit _cagou_ , you.” 

Clever and observant Jackson.

He was probably right. I felt pale. With the nightmares and Matthew’s random visits, I’d had enough blood loss to last me a lifetime...not to mention what I was beginning to suspect. On the plus side, the lack of “gardening” the last five days had been a relief. I shrugged, feeling embarrassed with his attention. “Don’t worry.” I turned away so he couldn’t see my wince of pain. “I won’t slow you down today.” My gut gave another throb and after a step, my suspicion became belief.

I went down the creaking hallway and was relieved that Jack had set up the antique vanity in the corner of the stairwell. The coast was clear. I went down the splintered stairs, skipping a broken step... one I’d tripped over yesterday when we’d been exploring. Through the bare kitchen was a half bath with only a toilet and a dirty sink atop an equally disgusting cabinet.

The toilets in all of our overnight places didn’t work, what with no electricity to run the water pumps, but usually Jack was able to rig up some sort of system to keep things fresh. The army that had camped here before us had pulled the ceramic bowl out of the bathrooms and replaced it with a type of opening. It smelled foul and made my nausea worse, but the only alternative would be outside... which wasn’t much better. Besides, maybe the stench of the sewage would hide what I was sure I was going to reveal.

I closed the door and then checked my underwear, hopeful that I was wrong -- but no.  
The brown spots on the lining gave me all the confirmation I needed.

I sighed. My period had been unpredictable since the Flash. Mom had said it was normal for stress to alter a girl’s cycle. I’d hoped that it would be another couple of weeks before I’d get mine again, but then, nothing else seemed to go my way post-Flash.

===

I watched Evie go down the stairs and then followed after her, waiting until she’d gotten inside the bathroom before slipping out of the house to do a perimeter sweep.

It had been a quiet night. Our crash pad was rather _bein_ , with its fence and second defensible floor. It’d been five days since Evangeline’s _mère_ had passed and I was starting to worry about our food. What we’d packed from Haven was starting to run low and all the houses we’d come across for the last two days had been picked clean, leaving nothing but the walls and roof to shelter us.

This morning, she’d begun to look pale. It worried me. She wasn’t used to a hard life, one where food was scarce month to month. I wished we could find some animals, some birds or squirrels. Gator would be better, but we’d gone beyond the swamplands of Louisiana and were in the drier flats of Mississippi.

I slowed my pace, waiting to see if there were bagman tracks here, but with the earth so dry, it didn’t appear than any had been attracted. I turned and went back inside, waiting in the kitchen for Evie to finish her _toilette_. After a minute she opened the door, looking sick. 

“What’s wrong, you?” I asked, feeling a spike of dread hit me. What if she was getting sick with the poor food and low water? She hadn’t had to ration the stuff at Haven.

“It’s... nothing,” she said, starting upstairs.

I stopped her, holding her elbow to keep her still.

“Tell me what is _nothing,_ ” I said, searching her face for signs of plague.

She flushed dark red. “Jeez,” she said, her pitch rising, “Let it go, Jackson.”

I released her, frustration bubbling. In the last five days she’d been guarded about every word. Trying to find out about a crumb of her life was like trying to break down a wall with a rubber mallet.

“If you’re feeling sick,” I began. She turned around, glaring.

“Sometimes,” she said, “A girl doesn’t _feel_ great, okay?”

Understanding dawned. “Oh!” _Ech_. Then I shook my head. “You got any supplies for that sort of thing?” Oh _mon dieu_ let this be the one time she’d managed something without me...

Her blush deepened and I could see she felt miserable. “No,” she admitted. Then she jutted her chin, looking down her nose at me. “Not yet.”

 _Alohrs pas_. Well, it couldn’t be helped.

“Come on,” I said, moving past her into the first of the guest rooms we’d ignored the night before.

We were _mal pris_ but there was no reason to _make the misere_. It couldn’t be comfortable being in her state without the things a girl would need. I opened up the door and then went through the room. I found some old sheets, but they were dusty. I frowned. Not good enough. I started digging through the closet, looking for anything we could use until we found some legitimate products.

Evie stood by the door, holding her arm for a second before her eyes widened. Without a word, she turned around and went back downstairs.

“Hey!” I called, stopping. “Hey!” 

I turned then, dropping the empty paper bags I’d found crumped to stalk after her. She’d gone back into the bathroom and was on her knees by the broken sink. I paused, her ass barely covered by that skirt she was wearing. I shook myself out of my admiration.

“Careful you,” I grunted. There were splinters and broken shards on the ground and around the sink.

“Eureka!” she said, sounding excited. I stepped back as she pulled out a dusty box with a yellow flower on it. She looked inside and let out a breath.

“Um...” I said, “That what you needed?”

She blushed harder. “Yeah... guess I should have looked there first.”

It seemed better than my idea of cutting up a bunch of sheets.

“We’ll source for them on the road,” I murmured, reaching a hand down to help her up.

She took it but made a grimace when she straightened. After a second she coughed at me and once again she looked as though she expected me to understand something.

“A bit of privacy?” she said, sounding cross. I nodded, then turned my back, walking out, starting to try and remember how many markets or abandoned convenience stores we might pass.

Through the closed door she called, “We’re going to need to source some things.” 

“ _Mais yeah_ ,” I replied back, feeling frustrated all over again. What I wouldn’t give for one lucky break in this whole mess. I scanned the kitchen then frowned when I saw movement out of the corner of the kitchen. Instincts on high alert I crept closer, bow at the ready. I moved against the wall looking out... but saw nothing.

Unnerved I glanced back at the door. The door knob twisted and I gave a sharp nod.

“You ready?” I asked.

She nodded, starting back upstairs.

“Come on, Evie. Time to go.”

She frowned. “So soon?”

“No time. I think someone is out there.”

That seemed to get through whatever fog she was in and she started back up the stairs. As she gathered the food bag and her own pack I slipped to the car, cranking it up.

The car would have been a beauty Pre-Flash. It was one of those hybrid models and probably the only reason we’d been able to get as far as we had. I scowled when I realized that our gas was lower than I’d thought. We’d have to source fuel and some supplies for Evie sooner rather than later.

A few seconds later Evie popped out of the house, the food and bedrolls in her arm. I opened the hatch in the back so she could load them but stopped when I realized that she’d not grabbed her bag.

In the militia I’d forgotten my bugout bag on a Bagger raid. For three days I’d been separated from the group and almost died of thirst.

“Goddamn it, Evangeline!” I grabbed her shoulder. “Get your ass back up those stairs and get your fucking bugout bag!” She cast me a shocked look. “Now!” I said, furious all over again. I glanced out at the area on the street where I’d caught movement. There it was again. Dread coiled. She’d opened her mouth to argue but I cut her off.

“Go get it, _now_ ,” I hissed, frustrated that she was wasting time. I pulled the gun up and her eyes widened in fright, before she turned tail and scurried back into the house.

I followed her as far as the kitchen. There weren’t any lines of sight opened to the outside world save the kitchen window. I heard her stomping through the hall to the room we’d stayed in. I held my breath but the movement had frozen on an opposite building. Within seconds she was back down the stairs, glaring at me with anger.

I’d worry about that later. I snatched her bag from her, threw it over my shoulder and put my hand against her lower back. After getting her in the car, I tossed her backpack next to mine in the backseat and within a few more hair-raising seconds had us on the road again.

===

“You didn’t have to shout,” I finally burst out, tired of fuming about it. We’d been sitting in silence for a mile before I’d told him the truth. _Careful Evie, you need him._

“You always get your bugout bag first.” He kept looking in the rearview mirror, his fists tight on the wheel.

“Yeah but I was going back--”

“Always, Evie,” he interrupted, glaring at me before pulling his gaze back to the road. In Cajun he said, _”Gonna get yourself killed.”_.

I leaned my head back against the car seat. I snapped back, _“Jesus, you act as though I forget it all the time.”_

Was that surprise? Forgotten that I could speak Basin too, Jack?

 _“One time is all it takes, cher,”_ he said darkly, his eyes on the rearview mirror again. I sighed, turning my head back to the window. Of course. Never could do anything right. Useless little doll.

It all hit me again, the pain and nausea. I knew I’d at least save my skirt from some stains but the cramps weren’t going to make the jarring roads any easier. I looked away from him, no longer feeling like adding to any of the animosity that he seemed to produce all on his own.

When I thought my voice could be calm I said, “Next time we can, we need to source some Midol.” Then, in Cajun I said, _”Or so help me when I run out of_ supplies _I will be using your jacket.”_


	2. Part Two

“Where are we going?”

Her voice was sleepy and warm in the dim light of the car. My knuckles were _blanc_ on the steering wheel as I crawled through the dust storm that had blown up ten minutes after we’d left our last crash. Evangeline had curled up in a ball an hour ago, apparently exhausted with seething at me. Now she sat up, her eyes darting around, taking in our environment. As she'd napped I'd heard her mumbling to someone, telling him that soon, soon he'd be sorry. Had the dust not been choking every foot of ground we covered I’d have woken that girl up to talk. Ate me up with curiosity, her dreams did. She didn’t keep a sketchbook any more or maybe I’d have gotten some clue of what was going on in her _coo-yôn_ head.

"What do you dream about?"

She rubbed her face and mumbled, "This and that."

I squeezed the steering wheel to contain my frustration. Closed-lipped Evie with her tantalizing secrets.

She stretched, pulling material taut over full breasts. I pulled my eyes away from her and back onto the road. "Should be a store close by. I went down here a few years ago with some _pardnas._ "

"Why?"

Her arms were still up, that shirt still outlining her breasts. I wondered if she realized that she had a chest that would bring the dead to life. Apparently not. She wasn’t looking at me, pulling her hair back with practiced motions while her eyes squinted through the dust. I pulled my attention back to the road.

"Fireworks." My tone was sharper than I intended, earning me a glare. I grimaced, inhaling the rose perfume that wafted from her hair. "That and mudding."

Her tension relaxed a bit as she shifted in her seat, legs unfolding and stretching.

Who would have thought the dimples on a girl’s knees could make my mouth so dry? I reached for my flask and took a pull.

“Are you drinking and driving?”

Nails on a chalkboard, her judgements.

“ _Mais Yeah_ ,” I said letting my voice sound careless. As if I would risk her safety like that. Any fool could smell I ain’t had anything with fire since Haven. “You goan call the Sheriff?”

She rolled her eyes, turning away to look out the window, her fingers drumming on that dimpled knee.

“You went mudding?” she asked instead.

I shrugged. A girl like her, all pretty with designer clothes and diamonds would have never gone out just to get filthy dirty. “That’s what I said.”

The road ahead was cracked. I moved the car to the side, and passed a burnt-out pickup that was laying on its side. Judging by the weathering on the side and the stripped tires I was guessing it’d been a victim of the initial firestorm and later raided. This close to the highway it was unlikely that anything useful had stayed long. The road ahead was clearer.

“I used to do that,” she said, leaning back.

“ _Non._ ” Had I heard her right?

“ _Ouias,_ ” she shot back.

“A rich girl like you?”

She nodded, her eyes on the road. “Back after we’d finish the harvest and there was a big storm? Oh yeah. Mom and I would take four-wheelers out and tear it up.” She cast me one of those heart-stopping grins. I looked away, knowing that if I stared I’d lose my air.

“Figured that getting dirty wouldn’t be your deal.”

She shook her head. “Haven wasn’t just a house, Jack. It was my home. I grew up climbing those trees, running the cane fields. Why wouldn’t I play in the mud too?”

I slowed the car as I spied a shadow through the dust. We got closer and I could see it’s outline. Praise the mother and her little baby boy, it was a Walmart. Judging by the lot, it was completely abandoned. I stopped at the edge of the lot. “Bout to get dirty again in here, _cher_ ,” I warned, parking the car.

She sat up, nervous again.

“Can barely tell what it used to be,” she muttered, starting to zip her jacket up. I frowned, turning off the car.

“What you playing at, you?”

She looked back. “Um, no offense but I doubt that you know what you’re looking for.”

I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t like this. It would be safer for her to stay in the car, safer for her to be sheltered from the dust and debris. While the winds were dying down, they weren’t predictable.

Still, she was right.

With a muttered, “ _Merde_ ,” I threw the car back into drive and got closer, moving deeper into the parking lot.

Light poles were downed and buggies rolled through and from the lot like rattling battering rams. I moved us closer, dodging the rogue carts until we were at the back of the warehouse.

“Why are we going in this way?” she asked, already shaking out her folded bandana and tucking her hair under her hoodie.

“Stores like this got too many exits. Too dangerous. We ain’t seen anyone but if someone were to hole up, it’d be in a place like this.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see anyone here, though.”

Neither had I. I parked us under the weathered cover of the loading dock.

“It’s locked. How are we suppose to get in without the key?”

I ignored her chatter, reaching back for the leather pouch containing my break-in supplies. I pulled her bag out and pushed it into her lap.

“You carry that.” I pulled my bandana into place around my face. “Doan know what’s in there, so stick to me like a shadow, you.”

She nodded, her face pinched. Whether it was pain or fear, I couldn’t tell. Shoving those thoughts aside, I nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”


	3. Part Three

PART THREE

The wind and dust cut, but my sunglasses, scratched and mangled though they were, kept my eyes from the worst of it.

After we got out of the car, Jack moved to my side and grabbed my arm. We raced to the side of the wall and he pressed me there for a moment before sliding beside me and shoving a thick key-looking device into the lock. With a shove, I heard something ‘crack’ inside before the door burst open. With a cautious movement, Jack stowed his gear and then switched his bag out for his crossbow. Then, with a nod, he stepped in, walking slowly. After I’d followed in behind him, he carefully shut the door, and engulfed us in darkness.

Startled, I grabbed his arm, squeezing.

He chuckled and just as quickly, I let go, embarrassed that I’d been so quick to cling to him.

“ _Tranquillement_.” Quietly. His lips were against my ear, the word so hushed that it sent chills down my back. I nodded, reaching my hand out and looping a finger through his belt loop.

I’d never been in the backroom of a big retail store. From floor to ceiling were long shelves made of steel. Nothing remained on the shelves, though there were splintered wood chips everywhere. After a few seconds, Jack pulled out his crankable lantern. I pulled my scratched shades off and slipped them back into the outside pocket of my bag. I pulled down the bandana and immediately wrinkled my nose.

The store smelled like must and dried blood. I swallowed the nausea.

“This way,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, letting my finger uncoil from his belt loop as we had to step over debris and trash. He was careful of every step, moving aside thick sheets of plastic and helping me over crushed and broken pallets.

I wanted to ask what he thought had happened here but before I could form the words he stopped, tilting his head.

There was a long metal shelf on wheels. It looked like one of the collapsible belts we used for processing cane during harvest. It was on its side and its wheels were stuck up, as if a caterpillar had been turned on its back to wave its feet in the still air.

“There’s the exit.”

I looked and sure enough on the other side of the crumpled line, were a huge set of swinging doors, one off the hinges.

“Climb up,” he ordered. I blinked but he was already kneeling in front of me, had shifted his bag to his chest to make room. I adjusted my own bag over my shoulder and then grabbed him around the shoulders. His slipped his hands down my thighs, pulling me close. I shivered at the heat of our bodies pressed. Then I frowned.

“If this is just a trick to grope my legs,” I began.

He squeezed his hot hands on my bare skin. I gasped but before I could wriggle back, he’d already straightened, heaving us up on one of those huge steel shelves. I squeaked, locking my arms around his shoulders and squeezing my knees around his hips.

With an easy swing, we cleared the downed mangled assembly line. As soon as his boots touched the ground, I scrambled off his back and glared.

Bastard was smiling at me.

With a huff I started out into the main floor but Jack caught my arm.

“I’ll go first, _bébé_ ,” he said, still grinning like a fool. Pervert. As if the whole thing had been some sort of trick. I turned back and looked but then shrugged. I was so not in the mood to possibly slice myself open on broken steel.

Jack shined the flashlight ahead and glanced back. “Like a shadow, Evangeline,” he reminded me. Just as quickly as that smile had come, he was back to business, serious and cold in the face of our needs.

I nodded, picking up my step and looking around at once had been a shoe aisle.

The boxes were completely obliterated. Nothing remained of the store, only empty shelves of steel and dusty boxes. Jack made a grimace as he saw the ocean of knocked-over racks. His entire body was stiff.

On our other side, stacks of broken TVs were piled haphazardly, covered with a shining minefield of broken glass.

“You ever miss it?” I asked, my eyes catching the sight of a huge 90-inch model with a baseball bat sticking out of the flat screen.

“What?” he asked.

“Television.”

He snorted. “Miss watching sports, but not as much as I miss other things.”

I glanced up to see if he were serious. “Like...?”

“Fishing.” We had just passed what had once been the sporting goods section. The sign declaring the countdown to deer season hung from one chain and swung back and forth in the wind that whistled up from cracked skylights. We stared at it, listening to the creak of the chain before moving on.

This was a store with the pharmacy all the way on the front of the building. It was tricky navigating the mess that a panicked population had left behind. I didn’t bother looking at the grocery aisle. I figure that six months after the flash there wouldn’t be anything worth checking. Jack seemed to agree with me, even though I’d not expressed the thought.

Sometimes it was nice like this, I decided. Brandon had always wanted to talk when we were going somewhere. On the beach? He wanted to listen to loud music, pausing it repeatedly to tell me about some event that had happened while listening to that particular song. If we watched a movie, he’d continuously lean over to whisper opinions, whatever thoughts he’d had.

Jack... Jack could appreciate the moment.

We finally navigated the mess that was the store to the Pharmacy.

I began to hope when I saw that the metal grate was still lowered over the windows and that the shelves seemed to fall away from this section of the store. We had a clear path to the counter and if Jack could break the doors open so easily...

“Something ain’t right.” Jack stopped, his hands loose on his crossbow.

“Huh?”

He turned then, grabbing my arm.

“C’mon.”

I turned my head back, looking at the blocked Pharmacy aisle. “Wait...” They were so close, potentially just a few climbing feet.

“Shh.”

I bit my lip, my eyes darting back as he ushered me farther.

Jack brought me to the broken down McDonalds, his eyes scanning the dropped metal wall.

“Jack,” I said, careful now. His moods were so changeable, “I trust your judgment but we’re so close!”

“Smells like a trap, Evangeline.”


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR  
There was too much that screamed "wrong" about that pharmacy set up.

Every other shelf in this place was wiped bare. There were scorch marks leading from the lawn and garden center that were left over from the Flash, yet those doors were now bolted shut.

The jewelry counters we'd passed were nothing but empty frames with shattered glass. All these obstacles were scattered around the store but the path to the pharmacy was suspiciously clear, breaks open in the collapse so desperate people could make their way through. It didn't sit right.

"We should leave." I decided.  
Evie's face crumpled.

"If you...think it's best."

Damn it. If she had whined. If she'd demanded. If she did anything else but look tired and devastated.

_"Merde."_ I ran a hand through my hair as I swept my gaze over the front of the decimated store. “It’s too dangerous, Evie.” She flinched at my voice, eyes softening with tears. _Damn it._ Soft girl. Too soft. I felt terrible, my guilt eating at me.

“Okay.” She started to adjust her backpack, turning away from the McDonald’s and starting to walk back to the car.

I ran a hand through my hair as I swept my gaze over the front of the decimated store.

"Fine!”

She jumped.

“I didn’t say any--”

“Come on, before I change my mind.”

"But I didn't say anything!" I ignored her protest, examining the barred entrance to the fast food place. It was pitch black, and after another glance, I dismissed it as being too difficult to get in and out of in a hurry. I turned away from the useless McDonald’s and started down towards the customer service counter.

"God, you are so freaking unpredictable," she groused, following me. My gaze trailed over the mini-store fronts at the Walmart. There was a nail salon, an arcade that looked completely shattered. We climbed over a cash register on its side and I stopped outside of the customer service station.

There were at least twenty buggies blocking the entrance. "Grab one and shove it," I ordered, pulling several out of the way. Evie shot me an annoyed look, visibly bit her lip and then pushed some carts sideways. When we'd created a hole I turned and wrapped my hands around her waist. She gasped when my hands closed around her. They fit easily, and I knew she was beginning to grow too thin. I shoved that concern back and lifted her up onto the counter. Once she was facing me, I could tell she was about to fuss about touching her. My dark side whispered that she should get used to it. There sure as shit wasn't goan be anyone else touching her if I had a say in the matter. Before she could waste her breath protesting I put a finger to her lips, catching her blue eyes with mine. Her lips were soft against the rough pad of my finger and for a second I could smell honeysuckle. I pulled my hand away, my finger tip scorched from the contact.

"Now." I pulled my gaze from those lips, my other hand still on her hip. "You get behind this counter and you stay there, you hear? I'm a goan whistle twice, like this." I gave her the signal. Her eyes went wide and she nodded, her pale face lovely even in the darkness of the abandoned customer service station.

"Where are you going?"

"That's a trap back there."

Her blonde brows furrowed and she shook her head. "A trap?"

I nodded. " _Mais_ yeah. Too much is perfect, _trop facile_ to get back there. Look behind me. You see any clothes left on them racks? You see any candy left on them shelves by that register?" She shook her head, her eyes returning to me. I nodded my head back towards the pharmacy. "I saw pills there. Boxes of bandaids and creams. I saw all sorts of candy that would have never been left."

She rubbed her fingers against her thumb absently.

"Now. If I'm right and I set that trap off, goan be a big ole' sound so loud your whole body goan shake. That's how the slavers do it for them traps. They wait until someone isn't paying attention and then, 'WHAM'."

"So what about you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "What's to keep you from being... wham?"

I let go of her hip then, though shit if my hand didn't want to hold her close in this moment when she wasn't looking at me like I was scum on her boot.

"Cuz I'm goan be watching for it." I looked around at the random assortment of junk. Underneath a broken ceiling tile I spied an aluminum bat. I reached over, shaking some of the debris off.

“Here.” She took it and to my surprise, knew how to hold it. Catching my look she rolled her eyes.

“Softball for three years in junior high.” She looked at the bat then back at me. “Just... don’t get hurt, okay?” Something odd moved in my chest. I nodded, turning away, swigging out of my flask.

“You hear any sound other than the one I give you, you go. You run back down to where we came in and you get in the car, lock the doors. Count to 100 and if you doan see me tearing ass to get to you, you get in the driver seat and drive. Understand?”

“But--”

“You run like the devil chasing your ass, you hear? If those slavers got me, you ain’t goan get me free and then they got you.” Which was intolerable.

I examined the ceiling. I heard her swallow. If she was crying, I’d lose it. I clenched a fist and then nodded, starting towards the pharmacy. I moved a buggy sideways, calling, “Get back underneath that counter, you. Doan come out unless you hear the signal.” I glanced back only to see that she’d followed my instruction, scrambling so fast I didn’t even see her move underneath.

I shifted my pack and headed back to the corner pharmacy.

I neared the collapsed shelves, my eyes darting side to side, trying to see triggers. I stopped, looking around closely. My instincts were warning me, like a pair of eyes was on my that I couldn’t see… a snake in the grass waiting to strike a boot too careless in its step. There was nothing beyond me and my eyes widened when I spied the ‘supplies’ Evie needed beyond the mountain of collapsed shelves. The trap, whatever it was, would probably be farther up. I was still too far away from the bait for it to be a secure capture.

With my next step I knew I’d been dead wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

PART FIVE

I sat against the back of the customer service counter, the bat on my knees. I swallowed reflexively, my hand turning the bat around and around as my mind spun.

I shouldn’t have let him do this. I should have stopped him. It was a bad idea.

My instincts were screaming that this was a bad, bad plan.

_”Red of tooth...and claw...”_

“Shut up,” I muttered, pressing a palm to my forehead. I wanted to stretch out to relieve the protesting muscles in my abs but I was afraid to try and get comfortable when I might have to run. Pacing would also be a welcome alternative to sitting in this spot, curled like a mouse, hiding from the falcon.

I stared at my dirty shoes, my fingers clenching and releasing the bat.

“Just relax…” I whispered, shaking out the chorus of voices from starting up again. I had just leaned my shoulders back when I heard an echoing crash, clattering shelves and a male shout. Then, something awful let out a shrieking so loud I dropped the bat.

“Jack.”

The word left my lips in a gasp.

I sprang up, grabbing the bat and launching myself over the counter. The screaming alert rang through the store, a fire alarm going off. I banged my shins into the buggies, but I didn’t care. His warning was in my brain, repeating over and over. I ignored it and tumbled forward, tearing towards the cloud of smoke that was rising from the ruined pharmacy.

_Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay...._ I chanted silently as I flung myself towards the crumbling mess.

I stopped, yanking my bandana over my face, waving my hand in front of a cloud of greenish yellow smoke. I didn’t know where it had come from, but it didn’t look like the earthen dust that layered on everything else. As I got closer, I sucked in a breath. In the middle of what was once the clearing in front of the pharmacy counter was a pit about four feet deep and at least 8 feet wide. Jack was face down and splayed on a moldy mattress and not moving. His arm was stretched out towards the edge but it fell short by a foot, as if he’d tried to pull himself out before losing consciousness.

The fire alarm continued to scream above us and I tossed the bat and my bag to the side, knowing I’d need both arms. I jumped into the shallow pit and knelt next to him. A sob broke through my throat as I put my fingers against his throat.

He had a pulse.

“JACK.” I shook him hard. His head lolled, his eyes shut and his mouth open. What had happened? What could possibly be doing this? I squinted through the foggy gas and then shook him again. What to do? I couldn’t think. That sound was so loud, screeching above us. I tried to lift him, managed to sit him up, but he was too heavy to drag out. I looked around, frantic, needing something, anything to help us at this moment. I spied a shelf that was lying free of the rest of the chaotic steel mess. I swallowed, then laid him down on his side, and got up, grabbing the edge of the pit.

It wasn’t hard to climb out... why had they made it so shallow? I thought inanely as I dragged the shelf down to make a ramp. I jumped back in, that incessant screaming starting to drive me crazy. With a heave I managed to roll him onto the ramp, face first. With shoving and desperate pulling I yanked him up my mini-ramp and dragged him and that heavy pack of his several yards away from the hole. Once we’d cleared the cloud of fumes, I sprinted back, snagging my own bag.

The shrieking fire alarm had become a drone now and I was sweating, my stomach cramping in pain and stress. I rolled him on his back, and knelt.

“Jackson, Jack, JACK!” I shook him again, then stopped, leaning my head down.

Was he breathing? I laid my head to his chest. Under my ear it rose, and he exhaled. Breathing. Thank god. I took a deep breath and then looked around. One of the rogue shopping carts was in the corner. I clenched my fist trying to figure out how the hell I could use that to my advantage then winced, realizing that my thorn claws had decided to show themselves.

It would have to be enough. I leapt up, grabbed the cart and with a swipe, opened up the front of the cart’s sides. Once cut, I bent the plastic down into a ramp. It was white where I’d stressed the plastic. The deafening alarm spurred me on, snot and tears running down my face as I pulled his limp body up the side of the cart. His legs hung out over the ramp I’d made but it couldn’t be helped. I pulled him in as deeply as I could and tossed my bag in his lap, pointed us in the direction of the car…I thought it was the direction of the car---and began to run.

It was a maze. Once we’d cleared the trap that eerie cloud of noxious fumes stayed put, thick, like mustard gas. _Oh god, please don’t let that be mustard gas…_ Jack’s face was limp but he showed no burns or redness. I shoved the unwieldy buggy harder, pushing us towards openings in the steel jungle.

We passed what was once housewares and I had to turn us around through stationary. I was trying to breathe, nearly hyperventilating in fear. When we got caught in a dead end I screamed in frustration, almost as loud as the terrible droning scream that dogged our steps. With effort I redirected us. It’d been months since I’d been in a store of any type, much less remember the layout after all the chaotic destruction had been wrought.

Pushing Jack was hard. He was heavy and I needed to grab his jacket several times to keep him from slipping out of the cart. The floor was uneven in many places and after getting turned around twice more, I finally found us in Grocery… we’d not tried to get through here when we’d been coming it, but the only real path for a wheeled cart went straight to the produce section. I found a path and increased our speed, Jack’s head lolling on his shoulders. Finally I could see the corner to the Electronics, could recognize the doors we’d climbed through.

Unlike when Jack and I had been exploring the silent store before, terror dogged me, my sobbing breaths keeping time with the howling alarm. How far away were the people who set this trap? How soon could they get in here? Were they coming now?

I glanced over my shoulder and then screamed as the cart hit a piece of wooden pallet. It sent both of us sailing, me to my side, scraping bare thigh over splintered wood, gashing my leg open. Jack hit his side and then coughed, spasming.

“Jack?” I was still crying, my eyes wide as he pushed himself up and shook his head like a dog. Then he threw up.

I stood, unsteady. My leg was already healing, he might see... but it didn’t matter. I shoved the mangled cart out of the way and knelt next to him, rubbing his back.

As soon as he’d gotten a few lungfuls of air, he met my eyes, looking shaken. Then, resolve fell like a curtain, as if he’d understood instantly the trouble we were in. He grabbed my fallen bag, shoved it at my chest.

“Come on, _pee-kôn._ ”

He grabbed my hand and then pushed himself up, unsteady for only the first step before he regained balance. We raced for the exit, throwing open the swinging door. I thought I heard shouts behind us then and balked when I nearly ran into the fallen steel barrier we’d climbed over before, but Jack had already flung me sideways towards the steel shelves. I grabbed onto a metal support as he tossed me, twisted around and leapt clear of the line, almost tripping on the shifting splinters of pallet wood. Before I could fall Jackson had me, a hand on my arm.

We ran towards the back door. My side hurt so badly that I felt like I would throw up but Jack dragged me, hissing, “Faster, Evie! Faster!”

We burst outside into a dust haze, the hot air blasting us as we sped away from the store. The door slammed shut behind us just as we made it to the car. I threw myself into the passenger side and Jack jumped over the hood, slamming into the driver’s seat. He turned on the car and with the first key turn it sputtered.

“NO!” Jack shouted, slamming his hand on the dash. I held my breath and with another turn of the key, it turned over. We sagged back into our seats.

“Seatbelt.”

He didn’t have to repeat the order. With trembling fingers I snapped the belt in place. With two movements he had the car in reverse and then we were flying.

I wasn’t sure if I was still crying or sweating, my heart racing in my chest as we turned and fled.

===

My hands were shaking as we put road between us and the hellspawn that was that Walmart. I felt nauseous and ill, my body sore and my mouth tasting like the inside of a meth lab. Evie was curled in a ball beside me, alternatively sobbing and laughing, _coo-yon fille._

“What,” it pained me to ask this, “happened?”

She shook her head. “I... you... I heard the wham.”

I let out a breath, my eyes focused on the road. She took my horrified silence as permission to continue.

“You were on a mattress in a pit... and there was all this smoke... I think it knocked you out.”

“Why weren’t you knocked out?”

She shrugged. “I had my bandana on.” Something didn’t fit that explanation. She continued. “And then I had to drag you out... so I did.”

I felt that wave of terror all over again. I slammed on the brakes then, hard. Evie squeaked against her seatbelt but my fury couldn’t be contained. I whipped on her, grabbing her by her shoulders and stared into her wide eyes.

“Doan you EVER do such a fool thing AGAIN, YOU!” I shook her at the last two words. “EVANGELINE, _ma belle_ you doan KNOW what they would do to one like you!” I closed my eyes, and then unsnapped her belt, jerking her against my chest. My heart hammered. I relaxed only when she wrapped her fragile arms around me. Honeysuckle filled my nose, chasing out the awful chemicals that fogged my brain. I inhaled, thinking clearer now.

“Jackson,” she said, her words muffled in my jacket. “I could never leave you behind like that.” I reluctantly released my hold as she pulled back.

I let her go, shaking my head. “You’re a fool,” I told her, my tone harsh. “You doan worry about ME.”

She stared at me, as though seeing me for the first time. Unnerved, I looked away, jerked my flask from my pocket, and washed my mouth out. Then I capped it, started the car back and began driving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story wasn't suppose to go in this direction. Originally, Evie and Jack find the supplies and keep driving off into the sunset towards bagger swamp and all the other events that happen in Poison Princess. But it felt boring and flat.  
> So then while I'm whining about my story being boring, my friend says, "Ok then, what's the worst thing that could possibly happen?" and I wrote like 3,000 words in forty minutes.
> 
> So Turtle, thanks lady. You're the bestest.


	6. Chapter 6

PART SIX

Four miles later and it was beginning to get dark. Already. We’d been creeping for hours before Jackson finally turned towards a library that looked as though it’d been abandoned for months.

Jackson parked, pulled out his shotgun and then told me to stay put while he scouted. I waited, nervous for him to get back, body strung tight after the last time. After less than two minutes he gave me the hand signal. I grabbed my bag and our sleeping rolls, slipping into the side door with him.

The lights were off in the small lobby, the glass completely boarded up.

“There.” He pointed to a door behind a big circulation desk. I pulled myself up and over the circulation desk and my feet crushed broken computer glass. I pushed in and found that past it lead to a set of shelving carts, stacked against an exit.

“It’s back here.” He pointed to another door that opened into a lounge area. It seemed like it had once been the employee break room. There was a couch against one wall and a cheap table with an empty snack and soda machine. Appliances were gone.

“Why take the fridge?” I asked, looking at the empty square and hanging wires that poked from the wall in colorful spirals. Jack shrugged, and tried the sink. No water. We shared a grimace and he nodded to the couch.

“You sleep there tonight,” he said.

“Only if you’ll push it against the wall.” I dropped my bag on the table and let out a breath. I found I slept better at our crash pads if my back was to a wall.

“Fine.” He seemed distracted, opening cabinets over and under the sink. I peeked over his shoulder but didn’t see anything that could help us.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I told him, grabbing a small zippered pouch from my backpack. He nodded, opening drawers.

“It’s clear,” he replied, slamming drawers in frustration. Oh yeah. He was in a _Mood_. Maybe I wasn’t the only one PMSing. I decided to keep that comment to myself and left the room, heading back to the front.

When I entered the bathrooms I was relieved to see that while they weren’t working, there were still clean stalls to use for the night.

I left the stall with only one maxipad left. I stared at my reflection in the dark bathroom mirror, the only light Jack’s wind-up lantern. When I’d been younger, we’d play “Bloody Mary” at sleepovers, looking into dark mirrors, whispering Bloody Mary’s name over and over and then turning on the lights quickly to see if there was a face staring back.

Today I felt like Bloody Mary, stuck in the dark, banged and bruised from my ordeals. I reached up and touched the face of the girl I saw. My hair was filthy, my face smudged and gross. I’d been trying to keep my hair brushed but it looked limp and oily to me in the darkness. My cheeks were hollowing and I shook my head, ignoring the pain in my stomach and the one growing in my head.

“Evie?”

I squeaked at the sound, jumping hard.

“God! Don’t you knock?”

“What for?” Jack stepped into the room. I blushed. It felt so... wrong for a boy to be in a girl’s bathroom. I grabbed the lantern and then moved past him.

“Because the sign on the door says ‘Girls,’ Jackson. Or can’t you read?” I moved towards the hall. I was still shaken from our close call at Walmart. I’d been so scared for him, terrified that he wasn’t going to wake up.

I put the lantern down on one of the tables and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. His reaction after had been powerful, I got chills remembering it. When he’d hugged me so tight I was shocked when he’d actually let go.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” I only just stopped myself from leaping out of my skin again.

“Can’t you stop just... sneaking up on me?” I asked, irritated that he’d practically read my mind. He shrugged then grabbed the lantern from me, walking towards the stacks.

I moved after him, hungry for the light.

“That could have been bad earlier,” he said.

“No shit.”

He tossed a smile back then, as if sharing the joke. I looked away, afraid of the emotion that coiled when he’d smiled. Before I could examine those butterflies too closely, bright pictures caught my eye. “Cosmo!” I grabbed at the plastic-covered magazine. The glossy pages spoke of a time before, before this terrible lack of resources, before traps made to kill and capture people.

“Here,” he said, handing me the lantern and holding his hand out for the plastic covered magazine.

I handed it to him. With a quick flick of his fingers he released the metal spring that kept the magazine protected in its plastic cover.

“I used to be over at the parish library after school all the time,” he said. “Drove this one librarian completely crazy. Must of chased us out at least once a week. But they always let us back in,” he handed me the glossy pages.

Probably because he’d been adorable as a child. Maybe that’s where he’d learned to love classics like _Robinson Crusoe_. Some kind librarian seeing the good where I’d only seen a thug kid.

“I didn’t go that often,” I admitted, rubbing my fingers over the crinkled pages. The corners of the magazine were brittle and I held it against my chest. I leaned a hip on the table looking up at him. He stared at me, his fists clenching then unclenching like he wanted to touch something but was afraid of the consequences. I licked my lips, feeling dried out. Right before I could say anything he turned away, his hand snaking into his back pocket for his flask.

“Come on. I’ll make dinner.” He started back towards the room. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and followed him back.

He heated some soup using a small pot of sterno. After it was hot he poured it into a thermos cup, no doubt remembering my last bloody encounter with a can. Tossing it, he turned towards the door.

“Where are you going?” I was suddenly nervous to have him out of my sight for too long, especially after what had happened.

“Scouting. Goan check those desks that aren’t broke.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. “Won’t you need the lantern?”

He shook his head. “It’s not too dark yet. Just going to check and see if there is anything here.” I wanted to go with him but I wanted to eat too. He saw that I hadn’t immediately reached for the food and handed me the cup. I took it, hesitating, debating the best way to ask him to wait, to not leave me alone just yet.

“What’s wrong? Not up to your standards?” 

I flinched and scowled, pulling the cup to my chest and turning away.

The door slammed as he walked out. I leaned my head back against the couch. Yep. Definitely not the only one PMSing in this little group.

===

If I’d had a worse day I couldn’t remember it. Started off rough, had a shittastic middle and a crap overnight spot. No more food to add to our dwindling stores, maybe four more days of water and Evangeline looking like a wilted flower. Tomorrow had to be better.  
I started systematic, opening drawers in the back rooms, but couldn’t find anything other than pens, dusty paper and office supplies. I made my way to the front desk.

Once when I’d been at the parish library one of the ladies had kept a whole store of candy in the bottom drawer. The only desk that was still intact was in the children’s section.

The boards over the window had dry rotted, the setting sun still bright enough to bathe the room in an orange glow. It was still dim, only barely illuminating the stained carpets of the children’s section. I found the desk half shoved against a wall and pulled it out so I could check the drawers. It made a hard squeal against the tile floor and I winced, freezing after the sound echoed through the hollow room.

After the nails-on-chalkboard sound faded I jerked at the top drawer. There were sticky notes in the shape of flowers and several pink and blue pens. Yup, a woman had definitely used this desk last. I checked the second drawer and found nothing useful, just reams of printer paper, boxes of dried out rubber bands, paperclips and binder clips. I pulled the clips out and tucked them in my jacket to use as PEWs. They’d crack underneath anyone who stepped on them giving us some heads up. I tried the last drawer but it was locked. With a curse I pulled on it. No give. I opened the top drawer, looking for a key. Nothing. I felt under the drawer and grinned. Score.

I pulled the small gold key off the bottom of the drawer, peeled the tape off and then unlocked the last drawer.

“Jackpot.”

I could see a ziploc bag on the top of several other bags. I pulled the drawer out of the desk and dumped its contents onto the faded old calendar. Then I let a whistle out at the haul. Nuts, mini-chocolates and some packets of Swiss Miss were visible from the ziploc bag. I grinned then, feeling the first good lucky break I’d had all day. I put those aside and then pulled out a purse, still zipped. Praying silently to myself I opened it, dumping its contents out as well. An ereader and iPod fell out, wrapped in its headphones. I shoved those aside and pulled out four tampons.

It was ‘bout time something went right.

I put those to the side with the candy. I sorted through the purse, taking the kleenex packet, lip gloss and wallet. I opened that too, checking for anything of value but it was all just loose change and a tired-looking debit card. All that was left on the desk was a duffle bag.

I upturned this too. I heard the crunch of plastic as a mass of clothes fell out. I put them next to the tampons. I sorted through and then crossed myself. A plastic bag with an entire unopened box of tampons, a package of thin pads, a bottle of Midol, and another candy bar was wrapped inside, the receipt in the bag.

“Thank you, Mother Mary,” I breathed.

I discarded some DVDs, a make-up bag and opened up the toiletries, taking the toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, soap and water bottle that was in there. It was clear that someone was going out of town the day the Flash hit. Maybe had packed for a slumber party or maybe her mom was holding her stuff for her. I shrugged. Another mystery to be solved.

I loaded everything that I wanted to keep back into the duffle and headed back to where I’d left Evie.

I closed the door to the library, scattering the binderclips behind me, creating at least a foot of mess as I retreated to our overnight room. I stopped outside the door, listening, worried I would hear her sniffling or crying. Silence. I pushed in.

She was sitting on the couch, empty cup of soup in her hands, her eyes out of focus. When I came in she looked stunned, as though she could hear something I couldn’t. Another secret.

“Here,” I said, tossing her the duffle. Instead of catching it, she dove sidewise and the bag landed beside her. I went over to the food bag and opened a new can of soup, lighting the sterno pot again.

“Don’t throw things!” 

I ignored her, holding the can over the flame. I heard her unzip the duffle. I glanced over, watching as she opened the bag. Her anger melted and relief took its place. I looked back at the soup, swirling it around in the can to heat.

“How did you find this?” 

Pride swelled at her awe. I shrugged then met her eyes. “Trust me _peekôn_ , I’ll always get you what you need.”

I held her gaze for a long moment then she blushed, looking away. The can was starting to warm up and I swirled the veggie soup again, looking back at the food in my hand.

“Here,” she said, getting up. “I can do something for you too.”

Had I heard her right? My heart began to pound as she got up, those long legs so graceful and smooth. I nearly burnt my hand and pulled the hot can back. I turned, following her movements.

She went into one of the joint packs and pulled out the first aid kit.

I frowned. “Evie, what are you--”

She pointed to the couch. “Sit.”

I frowned, extinguished the sterno and recapped it, replacing it before taking my can to the couch.

She had grabbed a cloth, the almost empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and some fresh medical tape. I watched her walk over, mesmerized by the way that skirt shifted with each drop and rise of her hips. When she knelt in front of me, I took a long swallow of soup to hide my expression. Evie didn’t seem to realize exactly what she was eye level with.

“Here.” She took my free hand and pulled the half gallon of water beside her. She covered the top and dabbed water onto the cloth. Then, as if I would break, she peeled off the old and dirty medical tape. It didn’t hurt but she treated each pull with a glance up at me, as though I’d flinch. Then, with gentle strokes began to clean my hand. I wanted to relax, wanted to lean back at the caress, the first gentleness I’d had in god knew how long. I tipped the can back and finished the soup, putting it next to her empty cup. As soon as that hand was free, she unwrapped the other one, treating it just as gently.

“You should take better care of yourself, you know,” she said, carefully dipping the other side of the cloth into the alcohol, dabbing that on my scraped knuckles. Her soft fingers on my hands made me wonder what it would be like to have them somewhere else. My cock answered that thought, hardening against my jeans with her proximity. I swallowed then shifted. She didn’t notice. When she turned away to get the tape I tucked the greedy bastard up and pulled my shirt lower.

After getting the tape she sat next to me on the couch and started on my left hand. Each movement was graceful. After she was done I had to admit they did feel better.

“Surprised you didn’t kiss ‘em better.”

She looked up, narrowed her eyes then leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to each hand, cradling them in her own.

“ _Ma belle infirmiere._ ” The words came out rougher than I’d intended. She looked up, a little surprised. I leaned back, pulled her against my chest and let out a breath as I stared up.

She sat stiff for a minute but then, moved closer, letting me pet her hair. It felt right, a rightness that I hadn’t had this entire trip.

“We got a long way to go before the Outer Banks, Evie.”

She nodded against my jacket. “I know.” I was quiet, running my fingers over her hair, and inhaled another whiff of that honeysuckle perfume she wore. I wondered where she kept it. She shifted against me and I wondered if she’d pull away. After a few minutes of this closeness I decided to try, one more time to talk her out of this trip.

“Goan be more dangers like the one we saw today. You sure about this _peekôn_? It’s not getting any easier.” I braced myself for protests.

She was silent. 

Encouraged I continued, not meeting her eyes. “It’s not just slavers, Evie. We can avoid the militias, been doing a good job of that, but food is getting low. That was stupid today, what you did. If you hadn’t gotten me out, _bebe,_ trust me, I’d been better off than you would have been.”

I looked down. Girl was fast asleep. I sighed and then shook my head. With a shift, I laid her down on the couch and slipped one of the flat cushion pillows under her head. After I’d covered her, I pulled my shirt off, grabbed that cloth and wiped down, watching over her sleep as though nothing would get us. As if there weren’t a hundred and one things that could go wrong tomorrow.

“Thank you, Evangeline.”

She didn’t stir. I sat down beside the couch, leaning my head back, listening to her breathe. I pulled the crossbow into my lap, eyes on the door.

“It’s great to be alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea came up during a discussion with my friend AristoKitty who wanted to know what would happen if Evie got her period. This was the result.


End file.
